That's the thing about perception
by faberryobsession
Summary: From a prompt over at LJ, Quinn is a critically acclaimed photographer Rachel is a Tony Award winning actress. A shoot is suggested to create some sex-appeal for the diva and sparks fly. Give it a shot and let me know what you think. R
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **That's the thing about perception.

**Author: faberryobsession**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Glee, unfortunately.

**Author's Note:** Heya guys. This is my first attempt at a Faberry pairing, so lemme know if you're interested in keeping it going.

_**Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy**_  
_**Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city**_  
_**Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack**_  
_**'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back**_

A sigh emitted from full lips as the lens cap clicked into place. She watched in silence as the hair dressers scurried back and forth, ushering the models back into the dressing room with mere hints of impatience and well-divulged attitude so that they could quickly get them ready for the next set of photos. High heels drummed a distinct tattoo upon wooden planks as she made a beeline for her office. Honey blonde curls bounced in quiet esteem as she flipped the blinds closed and settled at her desk. Only then did she allow herself to fold her arms upon the cherry wood and lay her head against them.

Being a photographer had its ups and downs. Getting started had been a long and arduous process, with many failed attempts and rejections. But when one had passion for their craft, it was bound to be recognized eventually. At least, that's what she'd always told herself. That simple belief and many hours behind the lens was what had gotten her here. Highly praised and sought after, Quinn Fabray had never allowed other's opinions to get the better of her. Okay, well not often. There had been a time when she'd merely sat back and allowed life to pass her by, convinced that she'd never see past the inherently small town of Lima, Ohio.

A knock at the door broke her from her reverie and she lifted her head just in time for her assistant's irritated timbre to break her from her thoughts, "One more minute, _Ms. Fabray _and I'll be dragging your ass out of there." The sarcasm behind that one name was enough to rouse her from her chair and she straightened her designer suit before she fired back, somewhat amused, "I think we've been through this Lopez. I took your ass to the floor in high school. I can do it again."

The sneer on Santana's features was evident, " Lucky shot, Q." The blonde merely grinned and brushed past the latina, muttering something that soundly oddly like, " Ungrateful bitch," leaving her assistant to blow her a mocking kiss as she approached the camera she had set down just ten minutes before.

_**I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes**_  
_**Trying on all our clothes, clothes**_  
_**Boys blowing up our phones, phones**_  
_**Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs**_  
_**Pulling up to the parties**_  
_**Trying to get a little bit tipsy**_

There was something lacking in the ladies now all dolled up in what appeared to be evening gowns. But, they were more like the ball gowns women wore in the old west, a bell skirt and simple lines. The only contributions to the modern age were the beaded bodices and brilliant colors. She had to admit that they all looked stunning, but that was what came, working with models. They were meant to be beautiful. Anything less and they never stayed in the business for long. Apparently they were meant to be starved and plastered with make-up as well, but Quinn would never point that out to them.

"You look great ladies. Before we start, are there any questions?" A shorter blonde cautiously raised her hand and asked, " We're not actually going to dance for this are we? They're like costumes right?" Occasionally, she got a bimbo. What could you say, life wasn't perfect. Despite the obvious lack of sense, or perhaps because of it, Quinn merely smiled and shook her head, " The editors just want a few shots to celebrate the Renaissance Fair they're holding in Time's Square. You won't be required to do anything but pose as you normally would."

She could feel the eyes bore into the back of her head, knowing that Santana was glaring in disgust in her direction but the friendly smile never left her features. The blonde looked relieved before nodding slightly and moving over to the simulated ballroom. She took time with each of them, settling the younger blonde whom she now equated with as much as a wind tunnel down at a table. The off-white linen settled nicely with the older feel of the picture and she pressed a drink into her hand, gently reminding her that it was a prop when she began to take a sip. Brushing off the urge to laugh, she moved to the next woman, a lofty brunette with dark eyes to the window set-up, guiding her so that she looked out longingly to what the onlookers would presume to be the garden. It was really a powdered donut that the model had been eyeing before the shoot began. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get the results you want.

The last two she placed in the middle of the dance floor, each with a handsomely dressed partner. Hands joined on one side, both male's free hand on either waist with either female's hand lifting to settle on a broad shoulder. "Stiff," was the complaint rolling around in her head. It would never do. Always a quick thinker when the need arose, she went over to the stereo system and pressed play, Kesha's 'Tik Tok' now blaring from the speakers. As she'd hoped, the women fought against the urge to smile. Singing quietly to herself she moved into position behind the camera, hoping to catch the right pose she was looking for.

**_Ain't got a care in world, but got plenty of beer_**  
**_Ain't got no money in my pocket, but I'm already here_**  
**_And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger_**  
**_But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger_**

Not long after, she placed the camera down and signaled to Santana to shut off the music. She might've been a pain in the ass, but she knew how to do her job. The lively beats subsided and Quinn clapped her hands together with a broad smile, " Thanks everyone, I believe that's a wrap. You did wonderfully ladies," she beamed a smile at them, " You as well guys," and a wink at the men, " There are refreshments in the changing room if you'd like to get a quick bite, otherwise you're free to go." Without waiting for them to excite, she retreated back into her office without closing the door, knowing it wouldn't be long before… "Fabray!" Yep, there it was.

Santana followed her as quietly as she could manage, not speaking until she'd shut the door and the exclamation was out of her mouth, " I don't know how you handle those air-headed bitches." There was a name in the back of her mind but she didn't dare allow it release, "I mean, come on, how you stand there with that friendly fucking smile and not slap one is beyond me." Sitting at her desk, the blonde retracted the memory card and murmured dryly without looking, " Because those _bitches_ are what allows you and I this comfy lifestyle we've become accustomed to."

Still, the latina grumbled, " Can't we at least get the brains to go with the beauty? There has to be some intelligence in the modeling world somewhere." Quinn laughed, " This from the woman failed basic math." She dared a look and there it was…seething, " I was distracted is all." She strove for nonchalance while the blonde snorted derisively, " Yeah, pre-occupied with Brittany's ass is what you were."

She'd said it without thinking, but immediately she'd wanted to take it back, " S, I'm s-s," but was cut off with a wave and a surprisingly vulnerable, " Don't worry about it Q. It's been seven years right?"

Both women settled into a weighted silence, each one dealing with past regrets and doubts and neither wanting to talk about them. It was amazing they'd stayed friends this long, and both women were aware of the others buttons. So, instead of allowing her thoughts release, she slid the memory card into the laptop and pulled up the pictures, Santana quietly moving to stand behind her. The first few were flitted through quickly, with a note of indifference. They weren't that great. Not terrible, but there was no emotion in them, no feeling.

**_I'm talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk_**  
**_Boys tryin' to touch my junk, junk_**  
**_Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk_**  
**_Now, now, we go until they kick us out, out_**  
**_Or the police shut us down, down_**  
**_Police shut us down, down_**  
**_Po-po shut us_**

"It's like they're walking around with a cast-iron rod up their ass, Q." The blonde rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a grin, she agreed, "Just have to get them to loosen up a bit is all, remind them that they're supposed to enjoy life."

"Give 'em a little powder up their nose, they'll fucking notice that." Santana's grumbles ceased as a photo near the end caught both women's attention. The music had reached the chorus, and Quinn had caught one female dancer with a small, secret smile on her lips, as if moments away from bursting out with the lyrics. The other had her head tilted just a bit, all but grinning as a foot was poised slightly in the air in excitement, about to take a step.

Quinn began to speak with an air of pure pleasure and confidence in her work, only to be beaten out by Santana, " That's our shot." Quinn sat back and eyed the woman for a moment, " You mean my shot right?" A one-finger salute came in answer, " You might be the photographer, but you know damn well you couldn't do it without me." Any smart-ass comments that would've been her answer were cut off by the incessant ringing of the telephone and Quinn picked it up, still glaring at the latina, " _Quinn Fabray's _office." Emphasis was placed on her name and Santana mumbled, " Who's ass is as big as her ego."

The comment went unheard as the blonde's jaw went slack, a glazed look in her eye as she answered without inflection, " Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow at eight. Bye." The receiver was placed back on the cradle with a dull thump that resonated in the quiet of the office. "Q?" Getting no response she tried again, " Quinn?" The use of her name by the latina seemed to snap her out of it and she raised hazel hues to Santana, " What's up? Who was that?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle, she must've noticed the now ghostly pallor of the blond. A monotone answered, " That was Phil. I have a new client coming in tomorrow." By this time the latina was growing impatient and she barked, " Well, you going to tell me or just let me hone my psychic abilities over here?"

A two-word response was all that she received, " Rachel Berry."

**_You build me up, you break me down_**  
**_My heart, it pounds yeah, you got me_**  
**_With my hands up, you got me now_**  
**_You got that sound yeah, you got me_**

**_Don't stop, make it pop. DJ, blow my speakers up  
Tonight, I'mma fight, 'til we see the sunlight  
Tick tock on the clock, but the party don't stop, no_**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and just for you guys here's an update only two days after the first. Now I can't promise that every update will be this soon, but I'm hoping to crank another one out in just a few days. It's actually almost finished but I've got work taking up most of my time. Maybe some of you guys can guilt me into a quicker update ;) Enjoy…..Oh and I don't own glee, unfortunately.**

_**Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting throught the wind  
Wanting to start again. Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin  
Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in**_

"You are a proud, successful, actress. You aren't that same cowardly pushover you were in high school. You've changed, grown." It was a mantra of sorts as she stepped into the atrium of the tall building. Chestnut locks fell freely about the determined, impish features of Rachel Berry as she stepped into the elevator. A set of perfectly straight, white teeth worried her bottom lip, belying her calm demeanor.

As she waited for the doors to close she glanced at her watch for what would seem the fortieth time and groaned. She was early. Nearly an hour early, actually. Well, punctuality was important, wasn't it? Clasping the small clutch protectively in front of her she steeled herself with a few deep breaths as the elevator stopped smoothly and the doors slid open.

"Hey Q, the Midget is here." Just those simple words transported her back in time and suddenly she was standing at a row of lockers with Karofsky heading towards her, complete with slushy in hand. She could've sworn she felt the icy sting of the beverage cascade over her skin before a feminine timbre called out, " Satana! We just had a damned conversation about professionalism. I swear one of these days I'm just going to find another assistant."

The blonde emerged from the office glaring at the latina who merely smirked in response from her place on the comfortable looking sofa, " Yeah, yeah Tubbers. Tell it to someone who actually believes you could get rid of this." A hand made a splayed gesture down her body and Quinn snorted with a laugh, shooting one more glare in the woman's direction before walking over towards the singer.

"Rachel. It's good to see you again." She blinked rapidly at the use of her name and lifted her gaze to the blonde in disbelief. "Q-Quinn." Cursing herself for stuttering, she lifted her chin and regarded those laughing hazel hues with a stiff smile, " You too. I'm a little early. I apologize, I thought that the punctuality from one such as myself would be.." "

"Damn, she still talks in paragraphs," came the remark from Santana and it put a bit of spark back into those chocolate hues and she stood up straight, " Unlike you, I have surpassed the need to express myself in the grunts and mental facilities of a caveman." Quinn laughed heartily while something akin to respect prompted a grin from Santana, " Well then, someone grew you a backbone over the years Manhands. Nice to see a little fire every now and again."

_**Do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet under scream  
But no one seems to hear a thing  
Do you know that there's still a chance for you, cause there's a spark in you**_

A hand found its way to the small of the shorter woman's back as she ushered her inside and after only the briefest of pauses she allowed Quinn to lead her over to the couch, settling primly on the edge of it as she crossed her legs. Surprisingly she found herself captive to the warm gaze of the blonde and it unsettled her.

She wasn't used to seeing anything more than cold indifference or even what she assumed to be hatred pouring from hazel hues. Wary of the implications, she smiled slightly and chanced a glance at the latina who was flipping through a magazine with a bored expression. " You look well. Both of you."

Seemingly surprised at the shortness of her words, Satana answered, "You say that as if you're surprised Berry. You're not the only one to make it out of Lima." There was satisfaction in her gaze as Rachel did as expected and sputtered, " I wasn't implying that I was surprised that you'd made something out of yourself Satana, merely that this is not what I expected when-" Huffing a laugh, the photographer reached over to place a hand over her own, "Rachel. Relax. She's just trying to get you worked up." Shooting a look at the pleased latina, "Off to the office with you Satan. I believe there's some paperwork to be filed somewhere in there."

Knowing she had her, the black-haired woman muttered, "Bitch," on her way to the office, slamming the door for emphasis, leaving Rachel to jump slightly. Neither woman noticed that Quinn still had her hand over the brunettes and she squeezed it gently.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Rachel pulled back and asked, " She's still kinda scary." Quinn merely smiled, and for the first time since she'd arrived Rachel noticed that it was genuine, and lit up her hazel eyes, prompting a small smile from the actress in return. " She's not so bad once you crack into the shell a little bit."

**_You don't have to feel like a waste of space_**  
**_You're original, cannot be replaced_**  
**_If you only knew what the future holds_**  
**_After a hurricane comes a rainbow_**

She was beginning to notice that the woman sitting in front of her bore no resemblance to the Quinn Fabray she'd known in high school. There was a warmth when she smiled, whereas in those days it never reached those intriguing hues. There had been a chilly calculation. It was as if the teenager had been all but detached from the outside world, never allowing anyone or anything past the confines of the cheerleading uniform that had held her power. There had been a few months, when she was pregnant where they had all gotten a glimpse of the real Quinn, but it had disappeared along with the adoption of Beth.

So into her intense perusal was Rachel that she hadn't noticed that Quinn was still speaking, and she shook her head before tuning in, "…done well for yourself."

Tilting her head, delicate brows creased in confusion before a light blush flagged her cheeks and she smiled somewhat awkwardly, " I must apologize Quinn, I was thinking and didn't hear what I assume was the compliment you just paid me." Quinn laughed easily and said again, " I was just asking if you'd kept in touch with anyone in Lima in all this time and that you've done very well for yourself."

Rachel nodded and smiled slowly, " Thank you Quinn," she said sincerely and quickly bypassed what might've been an awkward moment, " Actually, I really only kept up with a few people from Lima. My dad's of course still live there, and as far as I know both Puck and Finn still reside there as well. They share responsibility for an automotive repair shop if my memory serves correctly."

Bottom lip was held captive for just a moment before it was released and she gathered her thoughts, " Mercedes is here in New York, which I'm sure you are aware." Quinn nodded, the diva was more like a sister to her, even if they spent precious little time together. " Brittany is here as well, on tour with some dance crew from Los Angeles."

The conversation continued on, and neither woman noticed the latina now rooted to her place in the doorway. She'd opened the door just enough to eavesdrop on the two, but she'd never expected the information she'd just heard. Without thinking she slung open the door and turned towards the two surprised women, though Santana only had eyes for Rachel as she asked, almost pleadingly, " Brit is here?"

Chestnut curls flew with the force of her head snapping up, and she was almost fearful as she responded, " Y-yes?" Then mentally cursed herself for her trepidation, consequently hardening her jaw in pride.

Satana eyed her for a moment before cracking an entirely false smirk, " Don't worry Berry. I don't bite….hard." She winked, getting a very miniscule bit of her stride back as she regarded the brunette. However, it was now obvious at this point that she was out of her depth and very uncomfortable.

_**Maybe you're reason why all the doors are closed  
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road  
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow  
And when it's time, you'll know**_

Cue Quinn. " Errr…you said Brittany is here?" It was almost like watching a tennis match with the speed of which the diva's chocolate hues moved back and forth between her two old tormentors and she sighed softly before focusing on the easier of the two, Quinn. " Yes. Brittany has been here for a few weeks now. They've got some big competition going on and rehearsals have been hectic. We've gotten together once or twice." She eyed the latina warily for any sign of impending doom before wondering aloud, " Is it just me or has the ungodly pink elephant entered the room when I wasn't paying attention?"

Satana released an audible breath, prompting the blonde to go to her, lowering her voice discreetly in some attempt for privacy, " Are you alright S?" Santana looked as though the breath had been knocked out of her and her hands trembled before she smoothed them on her skirt and nodded, a tremulous smile appearing on her lips, " I'm just fine Tubbers. Why don't you get back to your riveting conversation with the brown-noser." A weak attempt, but again Quinn didn't push and merely let the brunette retreat back into her office before she turned around, regarding the diva who looked utterly confused.

Settling back onto the seat across from Rachel who had yet to tear her gaze from the doorway, she murmured, " Don't worry about her, she'll be fine." It was the diva's turn to scoff, however false it might've been, " Please Quinn, like I'm worried about that pit bull. I'm sure whatever is wrong with her was her own doing."

That put Quinn's back up, but she wouldn't allow it to show. She was different now, had matured, or so she told herself and spoke quietly and calmly, " Actually, you might be interested to know it was Brittany who hurt her, not the other way around."

The disbelief must've shown on the brunette's features, because the blonde's brow rose in silent challenge. " You expect me to believe that sweet, innocent Brittany that would never hurt a living thing on this earth somehow acquire the unholy power to hurt the head bitch?"

Laughing with very little mirth, Quinn supplied, " Actually, if you'll remember correctly that was my title, not Santana's." She was growing impatient with the diva's lack of forgiveness, even if it was for the woman now hiding in the office, " If you'd get your righteous head out of your ass for a minute you'd notice that we've grown up, and I've said not one thing to you since you've been here to make you feel anything like I did in high school."

Rachel shot back without thinking, " You sure as hell haven't apologized for it either have you? And you might not have elected to spew unnecessary insults in the time that I've been here, but I noticed Satana did as soon as I entered the room."

Quinn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing a quiet moment to calm herself. " That's just the way Santana is. It's the way she chooses to show she cares. Have any of those insults been anywhere near as cruel? Whether you'd like to believe it or not, we have grown up, perhaps some of us more than others."

It didn't take much for Rachel to slump tiredly in her chair, having the grace to blush in shame for her actions, " I apologize Quinn. I came here today in an attempt to put our past behind us and move forward, and all I did was plant myself directly back into McKinley High and revert back to the repressed diva I used to be." She was just now realizing that Quinn was being truthful. She hadn't uttered one insult the entire time Rachel had been in her studio, and lord knows she'd been given the chance. She hadn't done anything even remotely damaging or revolting until she'd picked a fight with her.

She leaned forward and repeated the action from earlier, laying her hand gently over Quinn's, " I am truly sorry. Now please, tell me about Santana and Brittany."

_**You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine  
Just own the night, like the Fourth of July  
Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth  
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!", as you shoot across the sky-y-y  
Baby you're a firework, come on let your colors burst  
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!", you're gunna leave 'em fallin' down-own-own**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well you guys didn't guilt me very much, but here's the third chapter ;). I did tell you I'd try to have it up in a few days so this is me delivering. Please review. I like this story and the ideas I have for it, but I'd like to know if you're enjoying it or not. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and alerted, you guys are awesome. For some reason it wouldn't center my lyrics on this one lol. No idea why. So, sorry about that .**

_**Happiness hit her like a train on a track  
Coming towards her stuck still no turning back  
She hid around corners and she hid under beds  
**_

Brushing a hand through silky blonde locks, Quinn forced down the irritation that Rachel had managed to conjure and laughed somewhat awkwardly. She'd worked all those years to put that part of herself to rest, yet five minutes with the pint-sized star from her past and it rose all over again. The stone cold bitch of McKinley High. She'd never fully escape from it, but she could damn sure execute some sort of control over how she handled it from here on out.

"Well, you remember how they were in high school. Brittany was all for Santana, ready to take on hell itself to be with her." She smiled warmly at the memory it brought of the dopey-eyed cheerleader.

She'd missed her sincerity, an almost child-like innocence that only Brittany S. Pierce had been able to pull off, " They snuck around behind everyone's backs, being together whenever they could. The only time they hid it was around everyone else. S wasn't ready for anything more. She wasn't prepared to admit anything to herself, much less anyone else and deal with the consequences."

"Wait…Santana is gay?"

Suddenly a voice emitted from behind them, haughty and unbecoming but totally Santana, "So I like the ladies. You got a problem with that Berry?" There was a edge of irritation to her voice, which was usual, but there was also the faintest undertone of insecurity in the latina's voice that had Rachel stuttering for a proper response, " N-not at all. I-I merely was surprised at your choice of sexual preferences Santana. I didn't mean…"

Satana rolled her eyes and strolled forward, taking her previous seat, " Don't get your panties in a bunch, Berry. It's not exactly tomorrow's headline that I'd rather sex it up with a chick." The brunette couldn't decide how to respond to the confession and instead decided to remain silent. " As I was saying before our resident bitch here decided to make her presence known."

**_She killed it with kisses and from it she fled  
With every bubble she sank with her drink  
And washed it away down the kitchen sink_**

Santana merely grinned and winked at Quinn who glared at the latina, though she knew this conversation had to be wearing for her, "She was a chicken shit who couldn't admit her feelings." Holding up a hand when the latina burst from her seat she reminded, " I'm still your boss, so sit the fuck down and shut up." Santana huffed loudly but sat down, mumbling under her breath, "You better be glad you pay me well, bitch. Otherwise there'd be a revival of "The day Quinn Fabray fell from grace" right fucking here."

The photographer decided to ignore her, " So Brittany gave up, and started going out with Artie. By the way, are they still together?" Neither woman missed the sudden movement to their left, Santana now sitting forward in eager anticipation of the answer. The brunette answered simply, " No." There was a release of breath that came from the other side of them before Quinn continued with a nod, " Well, while B was with Artie, Santana finally got her head out of her ass and told her that she was in love with her."

Quinn stopped here, not wanting to embarrass Santana with the outcome of her words, but by this point Santana was seething and the incessant tap-tap-tap of her high heel broke the sudden silence, " What are you waiting for Fabray? Finish the damn story."

With an apologetic glance to her assistant, she continued, " So she told Brittany that she was in love with her, that she wanted to be with her." The singer seemed entranced with the story, caught between her desire to know the rest and her trepidation at having such information, she nodded to continue. Somehow she wasn't certain that a punch to the face was worth acquiring the final words, " She turned her down."

Instead of Quinn, the brunette turned to Santana, " But why?"

The latina was busy checking her nails for absent grime, pretending not to pay attention to the recap of the worst day of her life thus far, " She was in love with Wheels." Shrugging with a nonchalance she didn't feel, she added, " I was too late."

When she met the pitying gaze of the diva, it was as if a switch had been thrown and the walls that had kept everyone out in high school suddenly erupted once more, " Don't look at me like that RuPaul. Poor little Santana. Couldn't be top dog, couldn't get the girl she wanted. Don't fucking pity me. Every get a bitch-slapped by karma at one point or another, mine just came quicker than most."

Rachel just stared as the former head bitch of McKinley High brushed past her and out of the studio, an echoed, " Fuck!" resonating in her sensitive ears. She turned back to the blonde who looked as if she were moments away from following her. Something stirred inside of the diva, a protective side she didn't know she had and she asked quietly, " She's still not over her?" Why was she feeling defensive of the dark-haired latina? Maybe it was just the vulnerability she'd barely gotten a glance of before the façade slipped into place. Or was it even Santana she was looking to protect?

_****_

_Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father  
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers  
Leave all your love and your longing behind  
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive _

Quinn eyed the elevator doors for a few more seconds before sighing heavily and settling back into her seat. She seemed past her short years at that moment, tired, " No. She's not. Brittany was her first love. The one that got away. I don't think she'll ever get over her."

Clasping her hands delicately in her lap she allowed her gaze to rise and meet Rachel's, " After Brittany turned her down she became…loose. She slept with whoever and whenever she wanted. She was trying to get over having her heart broken, not that it's an excuse."

Rachel vaguely remembered the events of that year, right before sectionals. Santana had seemed withdrawn. Still her fiery, insulting self but something had been missing. Those incessant insults had simply lacked the heart to make them believable. She was loathe to recall that she just hadn't picked up on it before. " I should have noticed." It was an absent whisper, but the blonde heard, brows furrowing into a frown, " Why would you? We tormented you for years Rachel. It wasn't as if we were close enough for you to notice things like that."

Which wasn't true. The singer had noticed when she was pregnant and felt she had no one. She'd offered friendship, and Quinn had been so absorbed in her problems to see. " Rach."

Her head shot up at the nickname. Rachel, and now Rach….she couldn't decide who was sitting in front of her. A mature woman who'd put their past behind them, or the cheerleader who'd played on her emotions for years. " It wasn't your fault. I was supposed to be her best friend and I didn't see it."

An uncomfortable silence followed, both women not knowing quite what to say to the other, so Quinn decided it was best they got to business, " So, did your manager tell you what they requested for your photo shoot over the next few days?" Truthfully Rachel had no idea. She'd been too busy freaking out over seeing Quinn again, much less spending close to a week, everyday, with the woman. So she just shook her head.

" Well your producers for Wicked wanted to create a little more…appeal for the show, for you." She had to tread carefully with her words, knowing Rachel would be uncomfortable for most of the show's advisor Greg's suggestions. " What exactly are you presuming for appeal Quinn?" Releasing a quiet breath she stated bluntly, " They believe that creating more sex appeal for the star would be a benefit to sales. So they want me to convince you."

She was sure it would have been difficult to look disgusted, outraged, and yet intrigued all at the same time for anyone else, but somehow the tiny diva managed it. Quinn found herself focusing on the hands that Rachel had clenched in her lap. How she'd ever gotten away with calling her Man-Hands she'd never know. Rachel had dainty fingers, small and delicate. A small smile found its way to her lips at the knowledge, but before it fully formed she seemed to realize what she was doing.

**_And I never wanted anything from you  
Except everything you had and what was left after that too, oh  
Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back  
Struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that _**

'Whoa…wait…was I just perving on Rachel Berry's hands?' Mentally slapping herself she sat back with a sudden wide-eyed look, " Quinn? What is it? Please don't tell me that their ideas were that bad. I find it hard to imagine myself posing even remotely sexy. Aren't you supposed to be preparing and settling me? You aren't doing a very thorough job."

The babbling pulled Quinn from her Berry induced reverie and she laughed, though it was somewhat forced, " I'm sorry Rachel, I was just thinking is all." Without waiting for her to ask, she went on quickly to divert attention, " And to answer your question, no. None of them are that bad. There were a few suggestions that I deemed inappropriate but the ones that have been chosen aren't that risqué at all. It will be more simulated and hinted at that just putting your body on display."

The silent, 'unless you want to' would be addressed later when she got the diva a bit more comfortable with the idea of being somewhat exposed in front of the camera.

The awkward pause went unnoticed by the diva who was now running all sorts of scenerios in that brain of hers, each one worse than the last, but somehow the blonde's words put her at ease. No small feat when it came to the over-extended imagination of the diva.

Settling once more back into her seat, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, which did not go by the blonde who now seemed hyper aware of her every move. 'What the hell?' She mentally chastised herself and shook her head, " Anyway, we'll be going through at least one of them today, but I was told you have a matinee show this afternoon?" Rachel nodded absently, " We do matinees every Tuesday and Thursday so yes we will be performing this afternoon. I'll need to leave promptly at eleven so that I can arrive in plenty of time for hair and make-up and be ready and rehearsed for curtain at two."

Silently stowing that information away for later, " Of course. We should have you out of here in plenty of time for that. But you'll be back for another session tomorrow night about six. Rachel?" The brunette finally met her gaze, giving her the attention she sought with a light blush of embarrassment flagging her cheeks.

Satisfied that she was listening, she added with a smirk, " That means six sharp. There are no fashionably late entrances on my time." This urged a small smile from the diva, but before she could return a jest, the elevator doors opened and the booming voice of Santana interrupting, " Alright bitches. It's showtime so stop your sickening love-struck reunion and get to work," with a mysterious smirk.

Rachel once again blushed at the obvious implication that they'd been doing more than talking before she rose from her chair and asked almost too brightly, " So, where is my dressing room Ms. Fabray?" Why was she suddenly realizing the fullness of Quinn's lower lip as her tongue swiped across it? When she finally tore her gaze away, both women were now a bit uncomfortable.

"Right this way Ms. Berry." For some reason Quinn was pleased that Rachel seemed to be riveted to her previous movement before she stood, " Follow me." Both women seemed very aware of how close they were standing and made sure not to touch as they walked to a door that was adorned with the black letters 'Dressing Room'

"There you go. I'll give you a minute to get comfortable before I send in Hair and Make-up." Quinn's gaze lingered for a moment before she walked away.

Chocolate hues trailed over the curve of the woman's back and to her ass as she walked away before Rachel blinked and retreated to the dressing room, mumbling, " It's going to be a long day."

_**The dog days are over  
The dog days are done  
The horses are coming  
So you better run  
**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, I'm back with another update. I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but that's how it goes sometimes. Just remember…It's all about the teasing, not the pleasing ;) Hehe, don't worry, I plan to get to the pleasing eventually. Hopefully it isn't too rushed for you guys. At least it's a slighty longer chapter right? Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted. As always, R&R. Also, as a side note, I've included the lyrics to whatever song I happened to be listening to whenever writing this, and the previous chapters as well.**

_**I never knew  
I never knew that everything was falling through  
That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue  
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth  
**_

With her back pressed to the dressing room door, she let her head fall back with a barely discernible thump before sighing. " What the hell is going on? Since when do I check out Quinn Fabray's ass?" She was panicking, just a little. She reasoned, " Not that she doesn't have a lovely posterior, what with those years of gymnastics and cheerleading have toned…W-wait that's not the point." Even her babbling was centering around Quinn and what she'd like to do with said photographer. A low growl rumbled from her throat in frustration as she tried to get the lingering image of tight-fitting jeans that lovingly caressed ample curves on the blonde's form that for the life of her looked nothing like she'd had a child at the tender age of sixteen.

Obviously, it wasn't working.

A few yards away, Quinn was mumbling under her breath as she checked her equipment for the hundredth time in five minutes. She was a professional; she'd been doing this for a few years now, after all. But something about the methodical habit of making certain everything she needed was in its place soothed the blonde. Call it OCD, she just called it being prepared.

She was running through procedures in her mind, attempting to brush away thoughts of Rachel Berry and what Santana had oh so gracefully termed, 'Making Berry's Berries Pop' photo shoot. She would not be focusing on her 'berries' or any other thing that could be perverted by Santana. What the hell was she saying, the bitch could pervert any damn thing. She needed to get her head on straight before the reluctant object of her affections made it out for her debut into the world of the many stars that displayed their bodies for the sake of publicity. Of course, that just led to more thoughts of the supple tanned skin the diva would be showing.

Yep, she was fucked.

_**But that's how it's got to be  
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy  
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see  
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears**_

Ten minutes later she sent in Hair and Make-up, they knew the score, and what she was looking for. They were briefed every morning on what each person was supposed to wear and how she wanted their make up done. Even down to the exact style she was looking for in each picture. It was all run very smoothly…until she heard the slightly panicked voice of Rachel Berry through the open door, " No, I-you must be mistaken. Could you get Qui-Ms. Fabray for me please?" Needless to say she was there in record time. What? Of course she had to attend to the needs of her models. It had nothing to do with the particular brunette behind the dressing room door.

"Rach, what-?" She didn't get a chance to finish the thought, finding a shockingly comfortable Rachel Berry pacing her dressing room in nothing but a pair of jeans that looked as if they'd been painted on, and a bra. Hazel orbs couldn't help but roam over the toned form of tanned abs and a flat stomach. Slowly they made the trek up to the dusky swells of the diva's breasts beneath black lace and the blonde was sure that her heart skipped a beat, heat pooling between her thighs.

It was when she finally focused on her face, a good thirty seconds later, that she realized she'd been speaking, " –not entirely sure I'm comfortable with it." She searched past the sudden lump in her throat for her voice, " I-I'm sorry. What was that? I um, wasn't listening, I apologize."

Royally fucked.

Suddenly, Rachel was uncomfortable for an entirely different reason. The photographer had a…hungry was the only way to describe it, look in her eyes, and she had a full lower lip captured between her teeth as she looked at the diva. The brunette was certain she'd never seen anything quite so sexy in her life. It made her uncomfortable and empowered at the same time. With the blonde undressing her with those beautiful hazel eyes, she found her voice, though it came out decidedly husky and not at all what she'd been planning to say, " See something you like Fabray?"

_**Let's rearrange  
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage  
Just say that we agree and then never change  
Soften a bit until we all just get along**_

Quinn sputtered and blushed, the normally confident woman reduced to mush by Rachel Berry. This wasn't happening, she lamented. It couldn't be happening. Sure, she was attracted to the woman, who wouldn't be, but this was not normal.

First of all, she was a woman, not that it particularly bothered her at this point in her life, but it was Rachel fucking Berry! The obnoxious, overly articulated diva from high school that she'd tormented. She wore argyle and knee socks for god's sake! A little voice inside the blonde's head retorted, " But she doesn't now."

"What was that Quinn?" By the look on the brunette's features that hadn't been her nagging conscience, she'd said it aloud. Dammit. She ran a hand through the blonde locks, obviously a nervous habit before speaking, " Um, nothing. Don't worry about it. What is it that you needed me for?" She hoped that the normally curious brunette wouldn't probe for answers the blonde wasn't quite ready to give.

The confusion still lingered on her features, though she didn't press the blonde further for details, merely turning to the scrap of material she was supposed to be wearing and holding it out for Quinn to see, " I'm not sure I'll be comfortable in this." A delicate brow arched at the 'this' she was holding and the blonde pretended to inspect the halter-type shirt, though she'd been the one to pick it out.

"What the problem with it Rachel? It covers more than a bathing suit does and you're going to be wearing the jeans. You won't be showing much." The slim black tank was slightly ripped and torn in a few places that would give the brunette a slight grunge look, but would still added class and sex appeal as it stopped above her belly button and hung off one shoulder.

"I'm just not used to showing quite so much skin Quinn. Normally when I acquiesce to do a photo shoot I'm fully clothed and generally have on green make-up." Which was true, most of the shoots she'd done she had dressed as Elphaba, from the show she headlined, Wicked. That, she was comfortable in. " Is it necessary to show case my stomach for the photographs? Couldn't we focus on something else? Perhaps my legs? I've been told they are quite nice. Long, and toned, but not overly muscled. I mean, who really wants to look at my stomach?"

_**But that's disregard  
Find another friend and you discard  
As you lose the argument in a cable car  
Hanging above as the canyon comes between**_

It suddenly occurred to the blonde that Rachel Berry, Tony winner and renowned actress and singer, was insecure about her body. A warm smile rose to the blonde's lips as the tangent ended and she regarded the brunette, " Just put it on Rach, okay? We'll try it out and if you really don't like it after I'm finished with you, we'll cut it okay?" The fact that the gorgeous star was insecure about her body was adorable, and Quinn couldn't help but attempt to reassure her.

The diva worried her bottom lip for a moment before nodding, slipping the garment over her head and into place. Quinn watched with a critical eye as the material settled and suddenly she was smiling brightly, " I was right." She seemed pleased, and Rachel turned to eye her appearance in the mirror, still unsure. As if the blonde could tell, she approached from behind, the taller woman standing over her shoulder. Suddenly the diva couldn't quite find air in the suddenly small space, breath hitching and she hoped the blonde wouldn't notice. She swore she could feel the heat from the blonde's skin, she was that close.

Quinn was just looking to put the shorter woman at ease, and without thinking placed a hand high on her waist, tugging slightly at the halter. The ribbed material clung to her curves, the dark, creamy, swells of the singer's breasts just visible above the shirt, rising and falling in time with her breath. She whispered softly, "You're beautiful Rach," before pulling away, now piecing back together the broken bits of her professionalism.

She added jokingly, " But you'll be paying me back for the work not being done today once everyone outside sees you. Santana will be drooling." She winked, both women now noticing they were alone in the dressing room.

An awkward laugh was plucked easily from the brunette as she metaphorically placed herself back on solid ground and replied flippantly, " Well I am a highly sought actress Quinn, I'm sure the recompense would be easily pulled from my advantageous savings account." The blonde rolled her eyes playfully and guided Rachel to a nearby chair, " Well then, superstar, let's get your makeup and hair done. Course that's even considering you can get it out the door these days."

A few minutes later the brunette had all but forgotten about being uncomfortable and had settled easily into conversation as she allowed the blonde to fluff out the silky brunette curls over her shoulders, leaving them to flow naturally as she added some light make-up. Nothing too overt for this first shot, they wanted fresh, an innocent sort of sex appeal. All the while they'd kept up a genial conversation, just random questions to begin with, " So, have you been back to Lima at all?" The blonde shook her head, focused on the very vague caramel eye shadow she was putting over the diva's eyelids.

_**And suddenly I become a part of your past  
I'm becoming the part that don't last  
I'm losing you and its effortless  
**_

"I haven't been back since graduation, to be honest." She'd taken off after receiving her diploma and had never looked back, taking a grateful Santana with her. " Me and San both got full athletic rides to NYU and we haven't been back since." She didn't mention the few months they'd spent in Quinn's car, looking for work until the semester began and the dorms had opened. " What about you?"

The diva cleared her throat softly and hoped she covered her surprise before answering, " I've been back a few times. I spent a few months with my dad's before I moved to New York for Julliard." Secretly she was ashamed for what little time she'd spent with her fathers since then, but she loathed returning to Lima. The indescript little town held almost nothing but horrible memories for the star, and every time she returned, saw her old friends, she relived them.

Quinn nodded and met her gaze, an understanding passing between them in the silence. They'd both left their hometown for different reasons, but they all intertwined together, one feeding off one another. " Seems like we both have a few skeletons still stuck in the closet." It was little more than a whisper, and Rachel smiled somewhat sadly before standing, making the suddenly nervous photographer back up, " Well, Quinn, how about we get to work before everyone wonders what we've been up to in here." With a wink, she sauntered through the door, and hazel eyes gravitated almost immediately to the enticing backside she was rapidly becoming familiar with.

"I was just about to come in there and bust you two apart. Damn, Quinn, I never took you for a pedophile." After her not-so-subtle dig at Rachel's tiny form, the blonde growled lowly and returned, " Shut it Lopez." Smirking, the latina held up her hands in surrender and moved from her position. She might've enjoyed riling the blonde, but she knew when to back off…sometimes.

The diva took it in stride, offering a sultry smile to the brunette, " Who said she was the one taking advantage Santana?" The assistant snorted and waved a hand dismissively, " Whoever the hell gave you a back bone midget, remind me to thank him. You always made it too easy." Something akin to appreciation entered the taller brunette's gaze as it raked over her form, leaving the blonde seething at the obvious ogling and she ground out, " Either make yourself fucking useful San or get the hell out of my studio."

_**Without a sound we lose sight of the ground  
In the throw around  
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down  
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves  
**_

"Hmm, boss has a little bite today does she?" She sidled up to Quinn, purposefully allowing the same searing gaze as it trailed up the blonde's form, making the blonde laughed in spite of herself, " Too bad she doesn't deliver. I wouldn't mind a nibble or two."

Quinn fought against the grin that threatened to overtake her features as she glanced at Rachel, who seemed to be watching the two intently, caught between interest and jealousy, " You couldn't handle me Santana. We've already tried that, remember?"

She found herself moving even closer, closing the distance between them and silently she was grateful that her crew had retreated much earlier. Hazel hues sparkled with amusement and fire as she slid a hand up the brunette's arm, murmuring lowly, " I know you haven't forgotten."

The latina seemed to realize what was going on and played along, even if it did happen to be true, which she would never admit, and met fire with fire, timbre growing husky as she stepped forward to place a hand against the photographer's side, " We could always try it again Captain." A hand made it's way to Quinn's rear and her eyes widened only slightly in surprise. She hadn't meant to take it quite this far.

Suddenly Santana slapped her ass and retreated, grinning widely at the yelp it produced from the photographer, "Maybe another time Q, I've got some paperwork that needs to be done." Glancing at Rachel, her smile turned smug as she noticed the distinct signs of jealousy in the pint-sized diva. Soulful brown eyes flashed dangerously, still glued to Quinn as she clenched her jaw. She definitely didn't like that Santana was acting as if the blonde was hers, and once the diva's gaze met her own she nodded, silently acknowledging the claim in her eyes.

She'd wondered about the two in high school, Quinn had always gotten entirely too defensive around the brunette, but now it was confirmed as she backed away from the two and retreated to the office. Everything that she'd seen in the past ten minutes from the brunette only confirmed what she'd thought for years. Rachel Berry might not be ready to admit it, but she wanted Quinn. Not that Santana planned to make it easy for her.

Once the latina was gone, Quinn cleared her throat and faced the brunette, attempting to call upon that cool professional façade as she stated in a precise voice, " Time to get to work." Her thoughts were a different story. It was going to be a damned long day.

_**Everyone knows I'm in  
Over my head  
Over my head  
With eight seconds left in overtime  
She's on your mind  
She's on your mind  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, so this chapter got away from me just a little, and it's a little different but hopefully you guys like it. I don't think I've ever cranked out a chapter this long quite this quickly, but as I said, don't get used to it. I've had a few days off from work and a lot of free time, so you guys reap the benefits. Hope you all enjoy. And as always, R&R.**

Finally, they were getting around to the actual work.

After quite a few moments of blatant staring, Quinn calling upon the professional attitude that had gotten her this far. It was a bit different to the smug, self-assured way she'd handled things back in high school. She was still confident, but there was something very different about the way she held herself, the fortifying breath she took before picking up the camera. It had nothing to do with her own comfort really, and everything to do with Rachel's.

If she still thought of her as the head bitch that had tormented her in high school, they'd never get through the next few days. There were glimpses of the younger blonde from time to time, especially when the subject of all of that change was brought up, but for the most part she'd left the old Quinn behind in stride. When she came to New York, with no support from the Fabray name as back up, something had lifted off of her shoulders. And she might've gone slightly overboard with her new-found freedom. But with the oppressive force that was Russel Fabray having been taken off her back, could you really blame her? For once in her life she wasn't looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had noticed.

Resurfasing from her musings, she turned with a smile, gesturing to the stool she'd set out for the first shot. There was a backdrop for this particular pose. It had dive bar written all over it. It gave off the distinct impression of bright lights and cold beer, the stinging odor of alcohol and sweat as many bodies pressed together and cheered for the woman onstage. It was exactly the atmosphere she wanted for the first shot. That cool confidence and innocence that Rachel exuded when she sang.

Of course, that's what Quinn saw. Whenever she set up for a shoot, she always imagined what she wanted, then set it up beforehand so she could get a feel for the impression it was going to give whoever happened to be looking at the picture. She wanted them to be able to visualize this as she did, to see Rachel as she did.

A microphone was set-up in front of the singer, settled just below her mouth so that the blonde could get a decent, open, shot of her features. Otherwise, this pose would not work. She needed the drive, the determination, and the sultry appeal that Rachel would definitely give off while singing to a room full of fans.

It was one thing she'd always admired about Rachel. She would give anything and everything for the sake of an amazing performance, and would settle for nothing less. Quinn was almost positive that if someone had thought that cutting off an arm would get a rousing response during a performance, the brunette would've agreed. She'd seemed to have mellowed somewhat with age, but the passion was still there. Quinn could sense it, could feed off of it if she could just get the stiff brunette to relax.

She'd tensed as soon as the lens focused on her, and that wouldn't work for what she had in mind. She watched as that full bottom lip was held captive between the brunette's teeth, the nervous habit full of the natural sexiness that Quinn intended to show the world. Biting back a groan, she tried to think of a way to put the singer at ease, thinking that if she kept up with the lingering looks and unintentional signals she was sending the photographer's way, she might lose a little of her propriety right here on the studio floor.

Chocolate hues followed the progression of the photographer through her little ritual, watching as she methodically went through her equipment to select the perfect lens. Her gaze riveted to the long fingers that glided over the cameras with a lover's gentle touch. It was clear she loved her work, and took pride in it. So much had changed about the tight fisted blonde she'd grown up with. That Quinn Fabray would've scoffed at the mere idea of taking pictures for a living, finding it much too menial of a job to even consider as a career choice.

Of course, that was only what she allowed everyone to see. Now that she had observed the woman away from that environment, she couldn't help but think that maybe the blonde had just been scared. She could only imagine feeling as though you had to be a certain type of daughter. A certain type of student. A certain type of friend. She recalled how broken the blonde had been after she'd gotten thrown out of her house. Rachel had never had to deal with that sort of thing. She had always known from a very early age, that whatever she decided to do in life, she'd always have the support of her parents. Quinn hadn't.

Rachel decided she was spending entirely too much time focusing on the similarities and differences of the Quinn she was getting to know now, and the one she'd left behind after graduation five years ago. She settled against the stool casually, palming the microphone gently in one hand as she studiously tried to ignore the camera that the blonde now had pointed in her direction.

Watching the brunette from where she stood, she brought the camera up to eye-level and took a quick shot, there was nothing even remotely salvageable about it, but she wanted to get Rachel used to the flash. Hazel hues widened only slightly when the brunette visibly cringed, fingers plucking nervously at the hem of the halter. Clearly uncomfortable, the blonde's visage softened and she attempted to draw her into conversation, anything to bring the brunette some kind of normality.

"Rach, why don't you tell me about Julliard? I never asked, but did Finn end up going with you as planned?" She was determined to keep it casual, though she was much more interested in the answer than she appeared to be. She wanted to put the diva at ease, but even as she spoke she kept the camera at eye level, ready for any promising shots.

"No."

She could tell how nervous Rachel really was just by the lack of verbosity in that one statement. Normally the diva babbled when she was anxious, but this was something different. She almost seemed scared of the camera Quinn was holding. She pushed gently for more, " What happened?" Besides an attempt to get the singer to loosen up, she was honestly curious, " I thought you two had that all planned out?"

When the brunette finally met her gaze, it was with practiced indifference, " I did too." How was she supposed to tell the blonde that she'd been cast aside, and better yet, that she still wasn't over it. Not Finn, because lets face it, he'd treated her like shit. But being abandoned, being second choice once again had stung, and the wound was still healing. " He was offered a football scholarship to OSU. We tried the long-distance thing for a while, but while we both felt our feelings were reciprocated, it turned out that his were not."

Finally, the camera was dropped somewhat after a few shots, amazement and outrage clouding the photographer's vision as she grappled for something to say, " That little bastard. He cheated on you?" Hazel hues whipped to her own and she suddenly felt self-conscious once more beneath the thunderous gaze of Quinn Fabray. Though, there was amusement to be had in her reaction, " It's alright Quinn, I don't believe that our relationship would've lasted anyway. He might not have handled it correctly, but I consider it a preemptive strike to what was already headed our way. Just a little sooner than I expected."

The blonde stuttered for a moment before she had to literally loosen her grip on her camera, for a moment imagining Finn Hudson's features in the view finder, " He'd better be damned glad I didn't know that last year when he came up for a visit, or he'd be a few body parts short when he left." As if she realized this wasn't quite an appropriate reaction for a friend to have, she cleared her throat and murmured softly, " I'm sorry Rachel. You didn't deserve that."

Rachel was actually quite pleased with the blonde's reaction, and found herself smirking as she regarded the fuming photographer, " It really is okay Quinn. It was what was best, for the both of us. He moved on, and so did I." Her voice softened just slightly on her final words as she looked up at the blonde.

Slowly, her lips curved into a smile as she regarded the singer and the suddenly intense and searching look in those deep brown eyes. Quinn had never been what one would call shy, but she felt the weight of that gaze on her and felt as though Rachel saw entirely too much as she held onto hazel hues. 'That's the look' she thought, bringing the camera back up to her eye, only to find that Rachel's shoulders had slumped and she was now looking at the floor.

Quinn sighed softly and ran a hand through golden curls. She hadn't imagined it would be quite this difficult to get the brunette to open up, to feel. While they were just talking, she had no problem, but once the camera came back into view, she froze and retreated. Moving over to a nearby stand, she settled the camera onto it. Making certain that the bottom of the camera was aligned with the base and snapped into place, she easily attached a long cord that housed a clicking button at the end.

This way, she could interact with Rachel without having to hold the camera, which seemed to be intimidating the smaller woman. Quinn found it almost laughable that Rachel seemed afraid of the camera. She had been performing forever, and was now an award-winning actress. What did she do at awards shows? So, she relied on what she knew of the performer inside the star, " Rachel."

Brunette curls shifted as her gaze met Quinn's and she blushed, turning so that the curls of silky tresses would hide the heat she felt blooming in her cheeks. " I apologize Quinn. I guess I should be used to the spotlight by now. After owning it from the tender age of three you would think that a seasoned performer would never be nervous in front of a camera."

Waving a hand, she smiled warmly, " That's really not necessary Rach. I was just going to say that-." Stopping mid-sentence, she tapped a finger to her lips and put the camera down, stepping over to the microphone and plucking the cord from where it had been hidden against the base, " Rachel." She waited until she had her attention, which wasn't long considering she had been aware of Quinn as soon as she'd stepped close enough, " Will you sing for me?"

As Rachel stuttered for a response, the photographer went ahead and plugged the end into the speakers resting off to the side, returning with a grin as she tapped gently on the top of the microphone. The answering hum seemed to satisfy her and she moved back over to her station, picking up the cord once more as she looked at the brunette expectantly.

"Quinn, this is ridiculous. How is this supposed to help?" Not that she was nervous, she was Rachel Berry for god's sake. She sang in front of a sold-out crowd nearly every night of the week, a lot of the time twice a day. It was just…it was Quinn.

The blonde feigned a gasp, pressing a hand to her heart for dramatic effect, " Rachel Berry refusing a solo performance? I never thought I'd live to see the day." The diva actually stamped her foot as she blushed, which the blonde found utterly adorable, " Quinn. I have to rest my voice for this afternoon's performance. I don't have time for impromptu glee flashbacks." It was a weak defense even to her own ears.

Chuckling, the blonde fluttered her lashes and brought out the infamous puppy-dog eyes in response, " Please, Rach. For me?" The diva huffed, rolling her eyes playfully as she giggled, " Fine, but you owe me dinner for the performance. And an explanation regarding your past indiscretions with Santana Lopez."

At this the blonde's teasing was put to rest, but she nodded none-the-less, swallowing past the uncomfortable lump in her throat. That was not a conversation she'd been expecting to have. Thankfully, Rachel was unaware of her discomfort. Instead, she was focused on the microphone, the feel and texture of it was as comforting as an old friend and she allowed her eyes to flutter closed. This was something she knew, something she understood. The slightly sweaty grip of her palm against the shaft was something she got before every performance, her one tell that she was ever nervous before putting her talent to use.

The soft, dulcet tone of her voice began the opening run and Quinn smiled warmly when she recognized the song. It transported her back to that day. That same day they won Regionals.

Quinn remembered vividly how she'd looked walking across center stage. It had been a fuck you to the cheerleader, but at that point she really hadn't cared. She'd said what she'd needed to get the headstrong diva to realize that her dreams were not in Lima. She didn't belong there, she was too great, too talented for that. Her schemes hadn't worked in the Finn aspect, but for one glorious moment she'd really seen Rachel at her best. She'd taken to the stage like a scorned lover singing her way to redemption.

She was a siren that called distinctly to the broken shambles that had been her heart. Too caught up in the hierarchy that was high school to realize that she spoke to a part of Quinn that she refused to believe existed. She didn't care for Rachel, she couldn't.

Finding herself squarely back in the present, she allowed her own eyes to close with the first words.

_**What have I done? **_

_**I wish I could run, away from this ship going under.**_

_**Just trying to help. Hurt everyone else.**_

_**Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders.**_

Urging her eyes back open, she waited patiently for the shot that she knew was waiting.

_**What can you do when your good isn't good enough?**_

_**And all that you touch tumbles down.**_

_**Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things.**_

_**I just want to fix it somehow.**_

_**But how many time will it take.**_

_**Oh how many times will it take for me, to get it right?**_

As the question was posed, the singer's lids fluttered open, locking on Quinn's as she pled with the lyrics, as if she was asking her to fix it. To fix her. The vulnerability was clear and unblemished and Quinn took the shot, having turned off the flash so that she didn't disturb the performance. It wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but she knew it was a keeper regardless.

_**Can I start again, with my faith shaken?**_

_**Cause I can't go back and undo this.**_

_**I just have to stay, and face my mistakes,**_

_**But if I get stronger and wiser,**_

_**I'll get through this.**_

'I'll get through this' came with the slightest of smiles and Quinn captured it, prompting a smile of her own. It was a proud moment, and a moment for them both to realize their mistakes were in the past. The indefinable stirrings of a new beginning bloomed as they held each other's gaze, Rachel pouring her heart out for Quinn to witness, and she couldn't help but feel as if the brunette were singing just for her.

_**What can you do when your good isn't good enough?**_

_**And all that you touch tumbles down.**_

_**But how many times will it take?**_

_**Oh how many time will it take for me,**_

_**To get it right.**_

It was a perfect moment, perhaps what it should've been in the first place. Instead of Finn realizing his feelings in the wings as Rachel sang for him, she instead sang to the blonde across the room, who every now and again was stepping closer and angling the camera with a tug for a better shot, yet those gorgeous hazel eyes never left Rachel's. Both women were smirking at the other, each regarded their counterpart with silent promises.

_**So I throw up my fist, throw a punch in the air.**_

_**And accept the truth that sometimes life isn't fair,**_

_**Yeah I'll send out a wish, I'll send up a prayer**_

_**And finally someone will see how much I care.**_

She couldn't help but laughed softly at the enthusiasm that the brunette always exhibited for her talent, but this was different. And as she hit that last, jaw-dropping note the camera was left forgotten and she slowly made her way towards the singer, a look of determination on her features.

Rachel trailed off, not even finishing the song as she smirked, stepping away from the microphone and toward Quinn. The blonde had little thought in her head as she slipped an arm around the diva's waist and to the small of her back, pulling her flush with her body even as her free hand slipped beneath the chestnut curls. She tilted the brunette's chin up as Rachel rose to her toes, crashing their lips together, unaware that there was still a steady click of the camera still going on behind them.

Fingertips roamed as the blonde suckled gently on a full lower lip, prompting a breathy moan from the smaller woman. She would remember thinking later that it was one of the sexiest sounds she'd ever heard, but right now she couldn't think past the racing beat of her heart. A lithe tongue smoothed across the slightly swollen flesh, asking permission that was immediately granted and Quinn let loose with a soft moan of her own as she tasted Rachel for the first time.

A distinct cough behind them finally broke them apart, though they didn't retreat far, foreheads resting together as the blonde gently brushed across a thumb across her cheek, " Have dinner with me tonight?" The brunette giggled and leaned up for one more kiss, mumbling against her lips, " Eager Fabray?" The answer was another kiss, rapidly growing heated once more until she heard the gagging sounds coming from behind them.

She broke away with a growl, whispering, "Fucking Santana. I don't even remember why I hired her." Chocolate hues danced with amusement and arousal as she answered, " You'd better get a proper hold on those fleeting remembrances long enough to uphold your end of the deal. Pick me up at seven. Don't be late." She was all but skipping as she picked up her bag from the dressing room and got into the elevator.

"Congratulations Fabray, you got a midget for Christmas. Wonder if she'll fit in your stocking?"

"Fuck you Satan," was all she managed as she grabbed the camera and retreated to her office, leaning back against the door with her fingertips pressed to her lips.

One thing was for sure, Rachel Berry was a hell of a kisser. And she had a date. Tonight. That's when the panicking started.

**A/N: So, who would you guys like to see make an appearance. I definately want to bring in Brittany soon, and maybe a little of Rachel's dad's, but I haven't figured out quite yet who else I'd like to see, so I'm leaving it up to the readers. A great big thank you to everyone who has reviewed and alerted, you guys are great :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Alright guys, first things first. I'm so sorry I haven't updated recently, all I can say for myself is that I've had major writers block, plus some personal stuff came up that kept me from writing for a while. Secondly, I apologize for the lack of Faberry in this chapter, but it had to be done to bring back someone we all know and love. Trust me, there is a purpose. I will make no promises on the next update, just know that I haven't given up and will continue writing as long as you're reading. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and alerted, you guys are awesome. As always, R&R, lemme know I haven't lost you guys :) **

**_You´re better then the best_**  
**_I´m lucky just to linger in your light_**  
**_Cooler then the flip side of my pillow that´s right_**

The brightest of lights shined on the dark-haired woman as she bellowed from her diaphragm, the meaningless fits and starts of a new friendship that, for the first time held no meaning to Rachel Berry. Dreams had been realized, bound, and sometimes broken on this same stage, and for once the talent-driven diva wouldn't have noticed had someone broken out with a rendition of 'Kumbaya' during her solo.

The lines and lyrics that fell so effortlessly from her lips were those she'd memorized long ago, a flawless performance that the tiny brunette wouldn't remember once she'd fallen back into the darkened wings of the stage, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

It had been like this since she'd left the studio; left Quinn. She'd been running on autopilot as she'd raced to the theatre, through hair and make-up, thinking she'd much rather have had Quinn in her dressing room fixing her up like she had before. Touching her, caring for her, making her beautiful.

Once she'd been primped and prodded, she'd merely sat in the plush chair in front of her mirror, grinning like an idiot, every now and then pressing her fingertips to her lips. She'd kissed Quinn Fabray….and she'd thoroughly enjoyed it. Wanted to do it again. Now she was being led back to her dressing room, her obviously show-stopping performance done and over with…and she couldn't remember it. Not the overture, nor the back and forth with Amanda, who played Glenda, not the expression of gratitude when they'd taken their bows to a mass of applause.

**_Completely unaware_**  
**_Nothing can compare to where you send me_**  
**_Lets me know that it´s ok_**  
**_Yeah it´s ok_**  
**_And the moments when my good times start to fade_**

Suddenly, she felt light-headed. She lived for her dream, for these performances, yet after one, albeit wonderful re-connection with Quinn Fabray and she was losing moments she'd waited since her childhood to receive. She stood in front of the mirror, somehow trying to discern what had changed. If somehow she looked different.

She saw the same thing she always did when she looked into the reflective glass, a slightly large nose that was reminiscent of her idol, Barbra Streisand; or at least she'd always thought so. Dull brown eyes that lit up when she smiled, which she used to her advantage. She could pull off the puppy-dog look with the best of them. Sculpted cheekbones that sat a bit too high for her taste. The one thing she did like about her features was her smile. Though she thought her lips a bit too thin, she had a smile that could light up a room. It was infectious and giving.

She sighed softly, not noticing anything amiss. However, as she sometimes did, she nearly laughed at the dark-green make-up that coated her entire face, all the way from her hairline down past the neckline of her costume. It was even covering her ears. It was also hell to get off, she thought as she settled into a chair with her name gracing the back in elegant script.

Rather than the rest of her co-stars, the diva was left alone in her dressing room after the show to remove it herself. She didn't enjoy having the assistants around all the time. It was a hassle to have them fawn over her, with their lingering looks and busy hands. She'd much rather enjoy the time after alone, in the peaceful quiet. Even if it did take nearly half an hour to get the make-up off herself.

A knock on the dressing room door interrupted her thoughts and she all but growled, " Come in," not even bothering to check behind her for whoever was entering her dressing room. The loud squeal assaulted her ears just before two strong arms were about her shoulders, nearly squeezing the life from her.

The force of the embrace knocked her chair side-ways, leaving her no way to see who was behind her, and just for a moment, sheer terror placed a vise around her heart. 'No, not again…' was the only thought in her head and she found that she couldn't move or breath, shock permeating her body and a fog over her senses. She vaguely felt a mouth move against her ear, and knew her attacker was talking, but couldn't make out the words.

_**Even when you´re gone  
Somehow you come along  
Just like a flower poking through the sidewalk crack and just like that  
You steal away the rain and just like that**_

Something knocked into her shoulder and suddenly she screamed, the sound piercing and hollow and the security guard who permanently resided outside her dressing room door came barreling in, looking for the intruder, " Ms. Berry…wha..?" The look of confusion and the sudden loss of the arms around her shook her into motion and she scrambled from the chair and across the room. She turned only to find the security guard now holding a terrified looking Brittany S. Pierce in place.

"Rach, why does the man in black want me? Am I being recruited?" Hysterical laughter bubbled up in the diva's throat and she fought back tears as she bent over at the waist, allowing her racing heart to slow somewhat before gesturing to the guard, " Oh Brittany, I'm so sorry. You can let her go Carl." He looked uncertain, but did as ordered and backed away with a wary glance at the blonde dancer, " I'll be right outside Ms. Berry."

'Same as you always are' she thought, though the words uttered were, " Thank you Carl." They were heartfelt, to an extent. She was grateful for his quick timing, given past events especially, but she hated that he was necessary. The blonde watched him walk out the door with a frown, muttering something about aliens and she couldn't help but grin widely as she went over to her.

Blushing slightly, she pulled the taller girl into a hug, "It's wonderful to see you Brittany. Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I would've had them set up the whole back-stage thing for you." Then she had a thought, " How did you sneak past Carl in the first place?" She could almost feel the dancer's grin as she whispered, " He was flirting with some woman in a bright yellow dress. It was easy," as if she were blabbing the top-secret entrance to the pentagon.

**_Don´t know how I lived without you_**  
**_'Cuz every time that I get around you_**  
**_I see the best of me inside your eyes_**

She laughed as she pulled away, " Well then, Mrs. Smith, would you like a refreshment while we reminisce?" She winked, referencing that horrendous spy movie in jest. Brittany simply looked confused for a moment, " But Rachel, my last name isn't Smith. Don't you remember?" She looked so concerned that the diva had to laugh. "God Brittany, I missed you so much." And she had. The innocence and naivety that was her high school friend was refreshing and so poignantly familiar.

The blonde beamed and put a hand on her shoulder, " Of course you did silly. I missed you too. Wow, you're still short." The diva playfully stuck her tongue out and pouted, " I'll always be short Brit, would you like something to drink?" _**  
**_

"Not if you wear heels, Rachel. They wouldn't make you look like a dwarf," she murmured knowingly and the diva just grinned and shook her head. "Just water." Unlike Quinn and Santana, Brittany's comments had never been made in a direct attempt to cause her pain, and over the last two years of high school, they'd become friends. It had been in secret of course, the diva not wanting Brittany to become a target. The blonde had objected at first, but eventually had given into Rachel's long-winded speeches that she didn't understand.

Well, that she pretended not to understand. She understood a lot more than most people gave her credit for, she just didn't know how to express herself as eloquently as the brunette did. She preferred to keep things simple, and enjoy life. Besides, she loved the looks she received when something intelligent came out of her mouth. It was better than being observed with disappointment if she failed.

**_You make me smile like the sun_**  
**_Fall outta bed_**  
**_Sing like a bird_**  
**_Dizzy in my head_**  
**_Spin like a record_**  
**_Crazy on a Sunday night_**

Since high school, the two had kept in touch with texts and emails, and had seen each other occasionally. Rachel realized it had been a few months since she'd last seen the blonde, and as she brought her a bottle of water from the small fridge she had in the room, she looked slightly ashamed, " Brittany, I'm sorry I haven't been able to come see you-"

The blonde waved her off as she took the bottle, " Don't worry about it Rach. I know you're busy. That's why I came to see you instead. So, good surprise?" She'd seen how the singer had reacted, even if she hadn't noticed at the time. The brunette smiled as she shifted in place, "Of course. It's a wonderful surprise. I've missed you." She could see the questions forming in the dancer's eyes, but the diva wasn't quite ready to explain them, so instead she pulled the taller girl in for another hug which, being Brittany she eagerly accepted.

Once they'd parted she eyed the small diva curiously as she checked her phone for the hundredth time in a few minutes, " You waiting on someone Rach?" A knowing smile teased at the corner of her lips and the brunette couldn't help but smile, " Actually I am. I have a date tonight."

The girlish squeal was expected, and Brittany promptly squeezed her into a hug once more, " That's awesome Rach. Who is it?" Before she could answer, a thought placed its tender little hooks into her brain. She thought it over for a moment before saying cryptically, " Why don't I get ready and you come with me. See for yourself." She thought nothing of interrupting the diva's date and nodded eagerly. " Does that mean I get to dress you? You have to look hot for him, Rach." She didn't have the heart to tell her no…

**_You make me dance like a fool_**  
**_Forget how to breathe_**  
**_Shine like gold_**  
**_Buzz like a bee_**  
**_Just the thought of you can drive me wild_**  
**_Oh, you make me smile_**


End file.
